Pixie Wine
by girlwhorocksall
Summary: When a bottle of pixie made wine turns Snape rather eccentric, it leads to him doing some very odd things to an unexpecting Hermione Granger. Dedicated to avasion.


Disclaimer: If they were mine, I wouldn't be doing this.

Note: This is a little one-shot one of the reviewers of my other fic (Strawberry Fields Forever) inspired me to write. I can't post the review until the end, so as not to spoil anything.

**&&&**

Hermione Granger liked being Head Girl for a lot of reasons.

The most prominent, however, was that instead of nagging people to do what she asked, they normally immediately complied. After all, most of the time she was only looking out for them. However, despite her promotion in power, Harry and Ron had done nothing to try and make it easier for her.

They still nearly choked trying to shove as much food as possible into their mouths at breakfast, lunch and dinner. They still saved studying and homework till the last minute. They still believed Quidditch was more important than anything in the entire world.

"Perhaps someday they'll listen." She murmured to herself, pulling her robe tighter around her small frame as she listened to the echo of her shoes hitting the cold stone floor. Normally she'd be in bed by now, studying or just trying to get some sleep, but Professor Snape had asked her to report to him when she finished her nightly rounds, as Professor McGonagall was sick in the infirmary with a bad case of dragon pox.

Rounding a corner in the dungeon, she frowned at the temperature. Honestly, didn't the Slytherin's have a cold enough attitude already? Was it really necessary to make it feel that way, too? Hermione knew the dungeons were underground, obviously, but since learning of her powers seven years ago, and coming into a world so filled with unexpected and wonderful things, she rather thought they could perhaps do something about the chill.

Not long until Snape's classroom now. She wondered briefly if her own head of house had asked him, or if he had just wanted a chance to sneer at her and make a few snide remarks, as he was bound to do.

Knocking on the door of his classroom, she waited patiently.

After a few moments of complete and utter silence, she bit her lip. Should she go in? Should she call for help? Was there even a need for help? Sighing inwardly, she decided against help and turned the door handle, surprised to find it unlocked. She thought that being Snape and all, he would have had about a million security charms placed on it.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione called out nervously, trailing a hand over the top of a desk as she made her way towards the front of his classroom. Everything seemed fine. There was no sign of struggles, or sign that anything was the matter, really. No potions were being brewed in the room at the time, nothing was broken or out of place, all was quiet and calm. "Professor?" Hermione called out nervously again.

Maybe he was asleep. No, she concluded after a moments ponder of this, he wouldn't go to bed so early, and anyway, she doubted he would when he had already made an arrangement.

Suddenly, a large crash sounded, and Hermione nearly jumped three feet into the air. Trying to calm herself down, she looked rather wildly about for the cause of the noise. _Perhaps she should've gone to get help, perhaps she should've just not entered, perhaps she should've just-_ Hermione's thoughts were interrupted as a door to her professor's private quarters opened, and over the threshold stood Snape. He looked rather disheveled, his jet-black hair askew, his eyes a little brighter than usual, his long billowing black robes torn in places.

"Uh, professor?" Hermione bit out, her hands fluttering against one another, trying to not sound so out of place and taken aback.

Snape moved to walk forward, but his boot caught the edge of the threshold and he fell flat on his face.

Hermione couldn't help herself: She laughed.

It was never ending, ceaseless laughter that was drawn from her. At first, she had tried to bite back and hold it in, but after a second she knew she couldn't do it. And so she laughed, the first real laugh she'd had in a while, at least ever since the war had officially been declared. Hermione laughed as if there was no tomorrow, as if her life depended on it. She was bent halfway over a desk, her face red, her eyes creased and sparkling with amusement.

Meanwhile, Snape had picked himself up off the floor, and leaned against his desk.

"Miss-," He hiccupped, "Granger." He strolled over towards her, wobbling a bit. "Is there anything-," Hiccup, "You'd like to tell me about what you find so obviously amusing?" He swayed back and forth a bit, a pale color coming to flush his cheeks.

Hermione tried to calm herself down, and succeeded for the most part, except for the occasional giggle here and there. She gave him a strange look – somewhere between a smirk and a smile – and tried to compose herself professionally. She straightened up, and clasped her hands.

"Nothing, professor," She assured him, "My rounds were completed, but erm, sir, Draco Malfoy has detention next Tuesday." Hermione cringed, not expecting him to be at all pleased that his favorite student had been given detention. If anything, she expected to be given one herself. Instead of confirming what she feared, however, Snape just waved a hand and snorted in an amused way in reply.

"Professor, are you… are you quite all right?" Hermione shot a worried glance at him, not quite sure what to do with herself. After all, if wasn't any day you walked into your professor's classroom and found him tipsy- Realization dawned on her. Snape was drunk. Oh, god. How would this look if anyone were to pop in?

"Quite all right, Hermione," Snape announced jovially.

He. Had. Just. Used. Her. First. Name.

Knowing he'd punish her later, but in the long run be at least a bit grateful, Hermione turned to his stores, and after finding no already completed sobering potion, looked for the ingredients to make one herself.

"_Shit_," she murmured to herself, coming up empty handed.

A hand caressed her hair, and Hermione spun around to find a very drunk Snape grabbing her to him and starting to waltz with her.

"Professor Snape, is this, uh," He dipped her, "really necessary?" He let out a low chuckle, not anything like the harsh laughs he gave in front of the headmaster.

His leg caught the edge of a desk, and knocked them both off balance, leaving him sprawled on the ground with her on top of him.

Merlin.

This was going to be a hell of a long night.

**&&&**

_Not my best, but remember, I'm new at this! _

_The reviewer was avasion, and avasion posted this on the first chapter of my other fic (Strawberry Fields Forever): __**"you know at first i thought that snape just up-and-left his class in order to go drink in the back room, i was like, 'huh?'-but then i reread it and realized that that wasn't the case. heh heh, although that would have been kinda interesting, snape busting through the door in one of his dramatic entrances only to fall flat on his face...poor snape."**_

_Thanks avasion!_


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